


Promised to A Malfoy

by CynD



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynD/pseuds/CynD
Summary: After an encounter with an ancient portrait, there's a realisation of disturbing fate of Hermione and Draco. Friendship and loyalty are tested. Blood's thicker than water. But most of the time, it is blood that was asked to be sacrificed.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 17
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The work is inspired by and adopted from JK Rowling's Harry Potter. Characters, familiar settings, places, etc are hers.

“I still don’t see the point, that’s all.”

“Leave it to you, Ron, to not appreciating what this beautiful place had to offer.”

“You hear that, Harry? She thinks this place blasted place beautiful.”

Wizarding Museum stored and displayed almost everything one could imagine. Be it historic, wizarding science, art and culture, wizarding astronomy, potion making, preserved wizarding creatures, and many more. It even had a dedicated wing for Quidditch alone, which today they won’t visit. Being the most visited section, the Hogwarts students will not visit the Quidditch part. Rather, they were divided based on their year to visit different parts of the museum. The second year students, though, had their trip to the least popular of all: Muggle technologies.

The Slytherins, they expressed their indignation as loud a gesture can be. A verbal protest will guarantee them suspension and house point deduction, so they won’t risked it. The most enthusiast were the Hufflepuff. Though, it may not because of their curiosity, but rather their general attitude. The Ravenclaw, they seemed uninterested. Mostly because some of them want to revisit the taxidermy of creatures assigned for the first year, some had conversation on astronomy, and some other on potion making. The Griffindors, they, mostly don’t want to be inside the museum. Unless Hermione, of course. But for her, what was the point in learning the Muggle technologies when she lived with them since she was born.

“Come on, Ron, it’s not that bad.”

“Not you too, Harry!”

Hermione just rolled her eyes as their group was guided by Oliver Wood, Captain extraordinaire that was asked to help with the monitoring duties supporting the Prefects and House Heads. Naturally, she walked in front of other students because she was just being her, even when she was less thrilled. And not to mention, she just wanted to be far away from Ron. Not from Harry, because he was her dear friend. Only from Ron and all his bollocks.

Oliver Wood was proven to have some extent of Muggle exposure, Hermione thought. Not only that he had at least surface-level knowledge about Muggle technology, he also knew the some that still being used today.

“This one, it’s a … cassette. It stores music. You put it inside a box and push some buttons. Then you will hear music.”

“What box?”

“The one that plays music.”

“Is it this one?” a student pointed at an IBM PC.

“Umm… No. Let me see.” Oliver read the description and checked it on his note. “It’s a – it’s a personal computer,” he shrugged and muttered under his breath, “whatever that is.” He scanned the group looking for Hermione and raised his bow. “Maybe some of you who are more familiar with Muggle technologies could help?”

Hermione smiled and raised her hand, earning a collective scoff from the Slytherins. 

“Of course she wants to ‘help’. She just couldn’t resist the idea of lecturing the class, could she? Cherry on top, about a claim that Muggles are more advance than us the Wizarding folks,” Draco Malfoy said loudly. “Go on then. Like you’d prove something.”

“That was uncalled, Malfoy. You have to apologise,” Oliver said.

“Or what? You cannot deduct our points. Only the House Heads and Prefects can.”

“Yeah, but I can file a report to them and the Headmaster.”

“That’s fine, Oliver, he won’t. What’d you expect from a Malfoy. Anyway, thanks for the thought,” Hermione said. Draco just sneered at that. 

Oliver give her ‘was that how you deal with him’ look, but then dismissed it before invited her to explain some of the Muggle things he didn’t fully understand.

“Well, it’s a PC or personal computer. It helps Muggle with their works, really, like to calculate, typing, I mean writing but with a machine. It also stores data, –information I mean, a collection of information that you input and save previously.”

“Like a book?”

“Like a book, like a file binder, but without the papers –scrolls. If you want, it can store many books inside, and you can put them into categorisation like how you stack them on your book shelf.”

She continued to assist Oliver to explain other things like radio tape, Polaroid, television, telephone and the mobile one, Walkman, PDA, and other devices she usually found at her home. She also clarify in brief that the woman in the poster displayed in the room was Audrey Hepburn, and not just an everyday woman, in case they’d have such expectation. She made a point, too, about Muggle’s achievement on landing the moon with Apollo 11. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were nodding in awe while the Slytherins and Griffindors were laughed at the idea. Even Oliver had to ask her in person if it was a joke.

They had their lunch with the rest of the students outside before resuming to the other part of the Muggle section. The scattered of random things that even she never saw in her life.

“It’s a … grenade. The … the Muggles use it in a war.”

“Who were they fighting?” Oliver asked.

“Each other. Ah, we had like at least two major war in modern history, the first and the second one. Major, means … world scale. They used a nuclear bomb at the end of the Second War. It was like using a Bombarda Maxima to a herd of ants.” Her friends fell silent.

“How do you know about Bombarda Maxima when you’re only second year, Hermione?” Oliver was shocked with her knowledge of the spell.

“You know, Hogwarts has this huge place called a library.”

***

It came the day that Hermione was lost. In a museum. Just because she need to use the loo. Great, she thought. The magic in the Muggle section was dampen to allow the use of electricity. However, they didn’t install a bloody heater in the room. She was cold and had to hold the urge to use the loo as she explained other things like wire, rifle, bulb, switch, pencils, and other Muggle utensils.

It was too cocky not to accept Oliver’s offer to wait her up or at least to assign other student to company her. She didn’t like the idea of being helpless, so she refused it politely. Now she understand why Oliver insisted that the first place. She paced through the corridor hoping that she’d find someone to ask to. When she was almost exhausted, she heard an old man voice echoing through the wall, singing. No, humming a melody. Was she hallucinating? Because she heard the hum of Bach’s Partita no.1. How in the Merlin’s hell could she heard a humming of classical piece in Wizarding museum? Even she couldn’t find a single muggle music in the Muggle section.  
So she continue to walk, hoping that there would be a person somewhere.

Only to be surprised. The humming was, turned out, coming from a huge portrait. So huge that it fill a whole dead end of a passage. She waited for the man to finish his rendition before letting her presence known by clearing her throat. The old man inside the portrait was surprised to the little intrusion.

“Hello, my name is Hermione Granger. I am separated from my friends and now I’m lost. Could you please give me the direction to the main hall of the museum, Sir?”

“Hello, Hermione Granger.” He starred at Hermione intently.

“Yes, Sir… Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you.”

“Is it, young lady?” He said. 

Hermione could only smile then responded, “I’m sorry to interrupt you enjoying the fine afternoon, Sir. I like your rendition of the Partita no. 1. My parents often play it when I was   
home. Bach is one of my favourite.”

“Your parents play it for you? What are you, a Muggle?”

“My parents are Muggle, Sir.”

The old man narrowed his eyes. “Hogwarts?”

“Yes. Second year.”

“I see. A second year student with Muggle parents, of course you’d have audacity to walk alone in the Wizarding museum,” he said while inspecting the crest on her robe. “And of course a bloody Griffindor.”

Hermione was a little taken aback. She wasn’t expecting to be judge by her House nor her parentage in such a public space, even there were just two of them conversing. It made her uncomfortable. She didn’t like being called a Mudblood by Malfoy at school, or anywhere else really. But turned out, when someone else judge her in such manner, she’d feel uneasy just the same.

“What’s your name again?”

“Err, it’s Hermione Granger, Sir.”

“And I am Charles, pleasure meet you too,” he bowed. “I am of the House of Malfoi, now Malfoy. I believe it still as reputable as it was. We were known for our mastery in potion making and trading, business dealings, and politics.”

“The Malfoy Family is still the privileged one, if that’s what you mean. Sacred twenty eight. The son is a schoolmate of mine and continue the Family’s tradition to be in Slytherin. While the father is indeed, doing politics in the Ministry.”

Was that why she felt uneasy? That the old man was a Malfoy all along?

“How about yourself?”

“Me? Well, I’m lost and in the need to find a way to the main hall, as I previously said.”

“No, no, no. Tell me about your House.”

“Griffindor, Sir.”

“Excellent. But I mean, your family.”

“I am a Muggleborn. I –”

“I’m not slow, my Lady, what I want to know is the House of Celeste. You are a Celeste, after all, am I right?”

Hermione’s eyes were widen. How come this old man know such information that even her friends and the teachers and Headmaster never obtained –whether of Hogwarts or of her previous Muggle school.

***

Draco Malfoy was a proud boy. Being a son of Lucius Malfoy sure had it perks. Not only that he was bathe in old money, he was also sort-of immune to everyday rules in school or in public. But there was burden, too. He was expected to have a decent attitude, at least in public. Something he could manage when he was fortunate enough to not encounter Saint Potter and his two loyal followers. He was, too, expected to carry an important duty as a Malfoy, to be one of the Guardians of Wizarding world – his Grandfather always tell him, more or less. It was a once in a generations fate for one chosen Malfoy to defend the Wizarding world. So he wished and prayed that he was destined to be that chosen one. Especially after he knew that he was on the same generation with Potter. And not only that, his friendship was rejected by said boy. So it would be really something he could rub in the faces of those Griffindors that Potter was not the only one special.  
He was furious that the Griffindor’s Captain reported him, resulted in him having to find the stupidus Hermione Granger. Well, she wasn’t stupid, far from it, she was very bright. But why did the supposedly smart Granger had to separate herself from the group. He was given a charmed stick not longer than his wand. Teacher will input the student’s name and the stick would track them. What he needed to remember, though, was his way back to the main hall.  
He was walking through passageways and passing the lavatory Granger supposedly used. But his stick kept pointing forward. How far did he had to go, he didn’t know. But he   
wasn’t in a mood in any discussion.

***

“The Celeste, I’ve been told, is the family of my Granny. Though she adopt his husband name of Beaumont, but she always insist that she, my mother, my aunt, and I are Celeste by blood. I’m afraid that’s all I know. Mother never elaborate.”

“Probably because she doesn’t know what to elaborate.”

Hermione shrugged. “I’m keen to know more now, Sir. I promise I’d ask my Granny when I have the opportunity. How do you know about the Celeste, though? My Gran once told me it’s an extinct one, nobody knows the Celeste anymore.”

“I was acquainted with one. That was very long time ago. How about your aunt, is she also a witch?”

“No, she isn’t. I’m the only witch in the family, the odd one in the room. As for my aunt, well, to be honest I never meet her, only on Christmases. Though to be fair she may be just very tired for playing contact sport all night long, I once heard my mother said. Then my mother will always call it a day and send our family home once my aunt woke up with Cabernet before 11. I never know who that is, though.”

The old man chuckled. Then as if on cue, there were sound of steps from the nearby corridor.

“Granger, are you there?”


	2. Granny

“Granger, are you there?”

Hermione heard someone called her. She then politely excused herself with a promise to visit again whenever she had the opportunity. Charles the portrait smiled to her and nodded, promising to wait for her. 

She run onto her caller who turned out to be the one and only Draco Malfoy. As if that wasn’t enough, they collided, her head to his jaw, because Hermione couldn’t see him behind the wall. That was how she now on top of him with all four as he fell on his back. Crawling out of the incident, she offered her apologise only to be shoved by Malfoy. With his sneer, he didn’t miss the opportunity to insult her for being recklessly stupid. He berated Hermione from the spot they collided until they reached the main Hall of the Museum.

She understand why he was so angry, so she choose to be silent along their way. Beside, she had something else in her mind. Something of a self-note to ask about the Celeste at her family Christmas with Granny.

***

Draco hated to be ignored. Ever since Granger hit his jaw with her big head, she was silent. He wanted her to fight him, verbally or with the wand. Because he was so mad at her and wanted to vent the frustration. Because she was so stupid despite being top of the class. Because she was a Griffindor but didn’t affected even a bit by his insults. Because Oliver fucking Wood reported him for his properly innocent comment about her being a swotty know-it-all. Because he had to be the one who tear the museum apart to find her whereabouts. Only to be hit AND shoved to the ground by the Mudblood herself. Fan-tas-tic.

And apparently, it took long for him to find Granger. The students were already heading back to Hogwarts. Left with them was the annoying Griffindor captain. He lectured Granger on the importance of not separate herself from the group, but welcomed her with smile nonetheless. Pot, kettle. The only thing consoled him was the fact that Griffindor had to lose points due to Granger’s action because it caused in delay of their schedule. On top of that, Slytherin earned some points deducted from them Griffindor because he deliver her safely.

At least some good news. He could sleep soundly tonight.

***

Hermione was a person of reason and logic. Researching new subjects were her favourite pastime, so she went to the library to look for something about the Celeste. It was never mentioned in her classes nor in any casual conversation. She couldn’t find it in the history books too, not even the one discussing Charles Malfoi. The library’s catalogue didn’t help her either. 

That was on top of her schooling. 

Not to mention she was exhausted from relentless experimenting with making Polijuice Potion. Then she also had to do research on that Chamber problem. 

And being a cat a whole night wasn’t helping at all. She was sore all over the next few days, lagging her research behind.

Being petrified wasn’t helping too. To survive and meet her friends again was already a blessing for her.

That was her excuse when she almost forget to ask about the Celeste thing to Granny. 

The summer holiday was a little different for Hermione. Both her parents, Philipp and Lilian, attended an international conference in Italy. Her mother was one of the Presenters. She was very nervous as it was her first time. Hermione had to encourage Lilian because she knew how important it was for her career. She recently took a doctoral degree and pursuing an academic career in a local university. Philipp was torn between supporting his wife’s first big international conference and taking care of his only daughter whom he met only on few weeks in a year.

Naturally, Hermione offered to go to Granny’s estate. That was because one, being home alone for the duration of her parent’s conference was out of question; and second, her parents didn’t want her to go back to the wizarding world yet to spend her summer at the Wesleys. Yes, they put the Wesleys before Granny and Aunt Angie. There was an awkward history between her parents and her mother’s family because she run from home to marry Philipp, a common people.

Well, the Beaumont may not the richest in the town, but certainly one. Not only that, they were also member of higher society. Her grandpa was voting in the House of Lords with big white wig she used to play with. However he had no problem with Philipp at all, they even often go to the pub together as in laws. Granny, though … she despised Philipp. Maybe for taking her baby daughter and impregnate her. It wasn’t until Hermione turned five that they made amend and formally introduced her to her mother’s family. She could tell that even though Granny was warming to them little by little she still bitter about everything Philipp. She knew that her grandma loved her. She noticed the hurt in Granny’s eyes every time Mother bid their goodbye, knowing that it would be months until she could met her again.  
While her father’s family ….

She met them only once or twice. Philipp was the odd one out in the family. They were hippies, Philipp and his brother John included when they were a child. Then he met Alan Rochester whom he worked for at the time. Philipp was smart, Alan saw that and offered him a tuition for his education. He was also a close friend to Uncle Daniel, which was Alan’s only son. She visited Alan more often than her Granny. But he died when she was only seven.

There were always the three of them ever since the beginning. They never even interact with their neighbours beyond the necessary. They were kind and decent family, however secluded. Friends? The only friends their house ever entertain were Miss Laura Fleck and the younger Rochester –her parents’ best friends and her godparents respectively.

And the Beaumont House is big. She wouldn’t say no to visit a House this handsome. It surrounded by garden and quite leafy because of the large trees inside the gate. Flowers were everywhere. Her favourite was the tuberose because of the pleasant scent. She was glad that Granny kept the tuberoses in the garden even though she made changes regularly and often replace one flower with another. There was library too, as big as her house, and seemed to have everything inside. Next to that was grandpa’s home office which have a huge mahogany table full of cluttered papers, books, and other things, contrasted with the pristine and order of every other area of the House. She caught up in deep conversation about British politics and economy with him. By conversation, she meant listen to her grandpa’s tale of the many policies proposed by the government and how that would affect them and the people. Does she understand? Maybe when she was a little older she would pick those up. Spending her time in wizarding world certainly made her unaware of the situation in the muggle world. For that she was ashamed. She made a mental note to ask her Mother to send her copy of muggle paper when she’s back to Hogwarts.

One of the things she learnt during a week stay at Beaumont House was the utter posh etiquette. She understand etiquette and manners, but in the House it was over the top, especially when they were entertaining guests. Everyday at four she was now dolled up in a tea party with her Granny. She was a flamboyant type, but her word carried power nonetheless, helping her popularity within the higher society. Her tea time was never just with the family members like how it was in Hermione’s house, it always were a social event. Something she had to endure every day too, was these grandsons of her Granny’s social circles. She made no effort to cover that one day they’d be Hermione’s potential suitors. It was a pathetic effort, but she enjoyed the scones and strawberry shortcakes that always been served along with the tea. The boys weren’t so bad either. There wasn’t room to complain. Especially, she also loved to hear what’s what of the politics from their perspective.

However that was why it wasn’t until her last night stay at the Beaumont that she had the opportunity to ask Granny about the Celeste thing. 

***

“I never properly thank you for having me here, Gran,” Hermione said when they step outside the House. It was a fine evening, so they walked in the garden after dinner. 

“Oh, shush. You’re my granddaughter, I’s love to have you every time we have the chance. And I speak for your grandpa too for that. You’re welcome in here whenever you want, Darling. You can give us call, you know our telephone number. Our chauffeur Collin will always ready to fetch you.”

“I’d love that.”

“Do you enjoy it, your stay here?”

“Sure Gran, I especially love the library and the garden.”

“Very surprising,” she deadpaned then continue, “Though you should explore every other part of the House. We have music room, you know, and the studio where your aunt usually spent her time whenever she visit. It’s a once in a blue moon opportunity that you’re here for this long, usually your Mother would pick you after few minutes dropping you here,” she chuckled.

“My mother warned me a little about entering Aunt Angie’s room so I didn’t explore that part,” Hermione answered and her grandma snorted in respond. “I did visit the music room, however I don’t play any. I once learnt the piano but gave up. I have no plan to learn any instrument in near future because … the piano one was a little nightmarish, to put it simply.”

“Even your Mother plays violin, Hermione dear, don’t give up just yet. Every Celeste would, so promise me don’t write that off just yet.”

Talking about Celeste … “Gran, I heard Bach’s Partita No.1 everywhere in the House, though faintly. That made me remember of someone as he was humming the piece when we met. Weird thing was, he knew about Celeste.”

Their walked come to a halt when her Granny stopped in her track. “How? Where?” she asked, her eyes searching.

That shouldn’t be hard to answer, really. But it was. No one knew that she was at Hogwarts except her parents. How can she be so reckless while her Gran already mention about Celeste so she didn’t need to come up with the gentleman part. She cursed internally of her faults in framing her question, now how she should explain it. 

“Erm… well, you know that I attend a boarding school. I accidently met a gentleman when I was there and we had a light conversation when he told me something about Celeste.”

“Who was this gentleman, Darling? And of course your Mother told me about sending you to boarding school, however she never told me where. What’s the name of your school again? Because I remembered I did a little research looking for your name in every school registered in the UK, however I found none. Where is your school?”

For a woman in her power a little research meant thoroughly. Though, of course she wouldn’t find any record of Hermione's record anywhere in the muggle school. “It is called Hogwarts, it maybe not a popular one.”

“Popular or not, it would be registered.”

Hermione inhaled out of anxiety.

“Hermione darling, Where. Is. It? And who was this gentleman?”

“The gentleman was just a random visitor, Gran, I know nothing of him except his name. It's Charles Malfoi.”

“NO!” she shouted with her hand covering her mouth, shocked. Her eyes wide open. Suddenly Granny was devastated. She was hyperventilating. Hermione didn’t know what to do or how merely revealing Charles’ name to Granny had this effect. However Malfoi certainly not a common name, so once you heard it you’d remember. It made her now very nervous of what the Malfoi had to do with her muggle grandma.

“Gran …,” she approached her grandma cautiously hoping to calm her.

“Don’t touch me, filth,” Granny snapped. “Go inside. Now,” She added coldly.

Hermione complied. She run into the House and directly go into her room where she cried herself out while holding pillow. She didn’t understand. But she felt that again. Rejection. Why? At the school she was bullied and called a freak for her magic outburst. When the bullies were teasing her, she cried and was so angry that her hair were startling in bright white-blue sparkle. She felt out of place and even considered quitting school altogether. In a full month she refused to come to school and instead cut her hair short. She binge watching Cyndi Lauper on telly and dressed in bright orange skirt while brooding. In the end, her parents decide that she’d better change school though she had to commute longer distance. Not before protests to her previous school, though, because she knew the bullies were all suspended from the school. Then there were her times at Hogwarts. First, it was Ronald making her sad with his comment but they now bonded in a friendship. Then there were the Slytherins especially Draco Malfoy who didn’t hesitate to use the M-word.

Now, her grandma dismissed her like she didn’t want her. Filth? She cried until she was tired and sleep, consoled herself that at least tomorrow her parents would pick her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the overwhelming support. I really hope I can continue to write and post the story regularly. However I don't know where to go with this story, yet. So, please be patient with me.
> 
> The name Philipp and Lilian were inspired and taken from the Rugrats twin, Phil and Lil.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione met Harry at King’s Cross, holding her half-Kneazle. She wanted a pet cat and named it Aslan after her third time finishing the Narnia series. The sick part of her plan to name her pet Clare after Granny, because after all, it was Gran’s money that she blew to ‘free’ the cat. She imagined calling her cat ‘Clare’ out loud would make her giggle non-stop. But she didn’t want her cat to be like Granny. And her cat was so cutely adorable and smart, so it wasn’t fair to name him after Granny. Not to mention, Crookshanks was rather peculiar name by itself and she loved it the first time she heard it, so did the cat. So why bother change it.

She sat together with Harry and Ron, reciting their summer. She pitied Harry. At least she had her mock vacation when her parents called at the day they supposed to pick her up from the Beaumont. Instead of heading to their home at Islington, she was escorted by the Beaumont’s chauffeur, Collin, only to meet Aunt Angie at Heathrow. From there, they flew to meet her parents in Nice. Turned out, they were offered to extend their stay in the continent by a colleague after their conference at Genoa. She spent about three days there with her parents, staying at their colleague’s small villa.

And Nice was just so beyond nice. Everything was perfect; the place, the view, the weather, the food, so she couldn’t really complaint. After they got back to London, Hermione and her Father watch charity football matches at their local stadium. She also visit the University where her Mother teach several times. She went to the park, to the local library, and she even visit the Portobello market this year because her Father thought she was now big enough to roam there. At night, she lounged while watching movies or reading some books.

She really enjoy the rest of her summer until one night when she watched Edward Scissorhands, she received a call from Granny. Hermione enjoyed her time so much that she already forgot about the incident with Granny. She didn’t want to talk about it or even to remember any of the details, but she was very curious at why Granny reacted so badly when she heard about Charles Malfoi. Her pride won every time, though, so she declined every call. Her Mother queried on what happened but Hermione just silent. 

So when her Granny finally visited the modest Granger’s home, she felt compelled to see her. It wasn’t every day to see Lady Beaumont stepped out of her Aston Martin car and actually walked through the front garden of a plain and small house that was no bigger than her drawing room. She wore light brown ensemble consisting of short sleeve blazer shirt and calf-long skirt combined with rattan hat and sunglasses that look elegant but too hot for the current weather. It was really a surprise that Hermione’s mother almost fainted at the sight, but regained her composure immediately and invited Granny in. That was tea time and Hermione knew that it was a big deal for Gran as she never skip tea with the Ladies. She showed up at her door, bringing a pack of Earl Grey as if the Granger’s wouldn’t have it, and box full with tea munchies. Oh Hermione remembered their strawberry shortcakes so she would think about that than focusing on the important matter that Gran was at her home.

Hermione required the presence of her Mother during their tea and making a point by not joining the talk. The awkward tea party filled with forced conversation concluded with equally awkward goodbye which repeated again the next day. That night, because Granny would come again the next day, her Mother asked her to be polite and that meant she had to at least say something during their pathetic effort of being chummy. She knew well her Mother felt out of place too with the sudden affection by Gran. However she couldn’t point to something that was wrong in the hope to be able to cut her off so they could back to being normal again by ignoring each other except on Christmas. So she finally told her Mother about the incident, resulting in a rather ugly phone row between her Mother and Granny right after. 

In short, her Gran couldn’t see Hermione for basically unspecified time, as Mother require Hermione’s voluntary request or at least agreement if Granny would like to meet again. It won’t be in near future, she decided.

That was why Granny tried to bribe her with the lavish bags, shoes, and clothes, sent to her via Collin. Along with cash and letters in each of the packages. She left the letter at the drawer in her room unopened. She used up all the money Granny sent to her for Crooks and a season ticket for the local football team. She felt a little guilty for giving up her pride for material things by using the bribe-money. So she convinced herself that, instead of bought the cat, she freed the cat. That bringing Crooks along to school as her companion was his decision. And buying a season ticket was to support her team, not just to gloat to her ‘friends’ who always mock her for not understanding the game.

And she knew that when her Granny learnt about it, she’d be fuming.

***

It wasn’t until the next Museum visit that year she had another opportunity to meet Charles Malfoi again. All because she decided that she was still mad at him for causing that reaction from Granny so refuse to visit him before the school begin. And she almost forgotten about it already. The problem was, she didn’t find the Celeste subject interesting. To her defence, she already asked her Mother about the matter. Only to find that her Mother didn’t really understand either, claiming that her Gran was reluctant to talk about it in general. Asking her Aunt was a slightly better option, however she was deemed ‘not-of-age’ to talk about it yet. Thus she had to wait years later to know it first-hand about her own family. 

She wasn’t really thrilled actually as the third year’s trip was dedicated to the history of magic, and Charles Malfoi happened to be one of the person they’d visit that day. She had nowhere to run. 

Her group was led by Eiffen Kohln, a Ravenclaw fifth year’s Prefect. He was a muggleborn himself but really master his magical history lesson and Hermione enjoyed it very much. He answered any questions threw at him, even the one that was irrelevant. Including a ‘why that old Malfoi bloke’s hair wasn’t white?’ from a random male student. A Hufflepuff, she guessed.

Of course, he meant ‘the lightest shade of blonde’ for the Malfoy context or ‘grey’ for an old gentleman context. But she was piqued by the question too. She didn’t even notice it when they first met. Striking dark chestnut hair, a little wavy, and by the look of it, seemed luscious. He could easily be model for head & shoulders or herbal essences shampoo and conditioner ad. Especially if you combine it with the slightly tanned skin and light stubble along with the rather dashing top resembling a military tunic in navy blue with red buttons. To anyone it screamed: NOT MALFOY!

“Well, sure, as one of you has raised a question about Mr Charles Malfoi, let’s we move to his portrait,” Eiffen said.

The museum was renovated, she noticed. The once seemingly hidden portrait now exhibited with the other figures. She kept her distance and surrounded in a crowd of her Griffindor friends in a hope that Charles wouldn’t see her in the group. When they’re started walking towards the portrait, Eiffen continued his explanation.

“Contrary to popular belief, the distinct colour of Malfoy hair wasn’t a family trait until recently. And as we’re learning history, what I meant by recently was of course, decades. Their ancestors we’re fairly the same with everyone. I mean, you know, regular height, muscle, skin, hair, you name it. Even wealth wasn’t come too much different with the rest of folks before. There’s nothing special about their feature, or them in general. It was all started, maybe when or after the division was made between the muggle and the magical world and the Malfoys considered as one of the Sacred twenty-eight.”

This caused a little stir among the group. Thank Merlin for the small mercy that Draco Malfoy was on detention duty, thus assigned to help in another group right now. The Slyterins glared at Eiffen in full hatred.

“Belittling the Malfoys in front of a Malfoy, you smart-arsed Mu-muggleborn. Like you really know our kind and our history. You better go back to your filthy world and stuck your tongue to your mouth than lecture us about things you barely understand,” one student said a little loudly.

“Well, not to brag but to satisfy your curiosity for my credential in guiding the history section, I took advanced summer courses on history offered by the HMEP, that is the Higher Magic Education Program by the Ministry of Education, if you are not aware. Saying that somehow I lack of the qualification to lecture you on history is a defamation to the Ministry, the educators, and the education system in general, not only to myself. I think you better learn to listen more. You know, loose lips sink ships.”

Hermione snorted a laugh, as the phrase reminded her when her Grandpa scolded Granny for talking too much about things she shouldn’t. Many other hold their laugh and only produced small giggles as the Slytherins seemed to have nothing to retort while some other let their laughs free. Eiffen, though, didn’t find it amusing and asked them to calm down so he can resume his duty.   
“Sush now. We have to greet Mr. Malfoi first, then we can chat and ask him about many curious things of his time,” he told the students, then turned to greet the portrait, “Hello, Mr. Charles Malfoi. My name is Eiffen Kohln, in Prefect duty now to lead the group of Hogwarts’s third year students in studying history of magic. Pleased to finally meet you.”

“Hello, Eiffen boy, pleased to meet you too and of course the rest of the students. It’s been so long since the last time I have so many visitors. I hope I can assist you during your visit,” Charles answered with strange twinkle in his eyes which again, uncommon to Malfoy. 

“Thank you very much, Mr. Malfoi. We are discussing about the Malfoys just now, where I mention that the distinctive physical features known to the Malfoy family wasn’t present before. However, we actually want to discuss more on the role of the Malfois during the Establishment and Great Division Era along with their legacy to the Wizarding world.”

Charles laughed, looking jolly. “Indeed, son. I don’t even know that the modern Malfoys have such qualities, let alone knowing how. The Malfois of my times are just like any other human, magical or not. We lived happily in one unified world. However it should be clear that even though many things were simpler, the old civilisation was rough. There were times where we fought together or against each other, be it for glory, power, land, and many other, including life and safety. It was common to be in a community of a mixed between what you call now as muggles, squibs, half-blood, muggleborn, and magical or in your word, the pureblood. Though, I have to admit, that to be a magical was a lot tougher than any other because of the propaganda against us.  
The Old Magic wasn’t gifted like it is now to you, children, but it was earned. The magicals often had to dedicate the better part of their life to earn the magic, to retain it, or to pass it. Then for that you should also learn about the source of our magic. Most were looking for the power from nature and universe, some were from the Divine, while some were from dark spirits. The magical live together with the rest, making the society wary.

However, it was proven time and time again that the magical and the non-magical people can work together as they usually found hand-in-hand in battle against other nations, kingdoms, or civilisations. The magicals were often stronger and have specialties, thus usually were praised and prized. There were feasts to hail them as hero and knights because they protected the Land, the Lord, and the people. Some of the magical also pledge their loyalties to certain things, like places or families or nations in general. Like, ah… Miss Hermione of The Celeste, which I believe present today.”

Hermione shifted in her place, wishing to be unseen but of course her friends were all already staring at her, letting her hiding place known. That, if to stand right behind Ron could be considered as ‘hiding’.

“Hello, Sir. It’s nice to meet you again.”

“My Lady," he bowed and continued, "I hope you don’t find me too unappealing as it was so long from the first time we met. Come, come,” he gestured her to move forward between his portrait and the rest of the class. 

Surprisingly, it was Kohln who bowed and kissed her hand. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Granger. I didn’t know that you are of the Celeste. Eiffen Kohln, fifth year’s Ravenclaw.”

“Well, you’re fast, son,” Charles chuckled.

“I just have the advantage of knowledge, Sir, pardon my manners,” Eiffen said.

“Do you intent to be suitor, then, boy?” Charles asked.

Eiffen then turned to a confused Hermione, “Well, if Miss Granger would approve then I have all the reason to be one.”  
“Granger’s got a boyfriend!” one student shouted. A Slytherin, she noticed. Another followed, clearly mocking the two.  
“How perfect, a muggleborn couple in love!” The Slytherins jeered at the awkward exchange between the three figures in front of the group. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” they cheered.

“Yeeeess!!! Get a room!”

“Yes, finally find your perfect match, Granger!” Laughter came after, however met with rolling eyes from the other Houses.  
“How sweet, two know-it-all-s find their love in a bloody Museum during history lesson. You two should marry!” another wave of laughter from the Slytherins echoing the portrait hall.

“Silence!”

***

Draco was bored. He was tasked to help guarding the second year students as his detention. Thank Merlin, the one on duty, a seventh year Hufflepuff, was so giddy and didn’t really care of what Draco did during the trip. Not to mention, the second year was about all muggle boring, disgusting, confusing, unmemorable, unnecessary stuffs. All boxes and wire, carbon battery, unmoving pictures they called poster, which he remember because Granger’s lecture on it in their shared Transfiguration class. What in the Merlin’s hell was that, lecturing the wizard and witch of muggle unmoving picture in Transfiguration class.  
And he knew that at his own group, the third years, were on History. His father told him about the old portrait of Malfoi in the Museum that was just moved to the portrait hall after renovation. How could he pass the opportunity to brag about his ancestor in front of the class?

So he told Maria, the seventh year Hufflepuff on duty, that he could not miss his years’ trip. Maria smiled and nodded happily, maybe to finally rid of Malfoy. But he didn’t care. He ought to find his friends.

***

When Draco entered the portrait room, it was full of laughter. He knew by heart that was his House friend’s laugh. Then he saw to students in front of the group holding hand. Then he heard Blaise’s voice shouting rather than saying ‘Yes, finally find your perfect match, Granger!’ then another laughter of his House. Wow, this escalated quickly, he thought. So he assumed Granger was one of the students in the front. So he deduce that maybe the other one was the Prefect assigned to the group. Then he heard another shout of ‘kiss kiss’ and ‘get a room’ followed by another laughter. He felt conflicted as he regretted that he missed something this fun, but he also proud at his Slytherin friends that they could humiliate Granger without his presence.

“Silence!” he heard when he arrived at the scene, ready to give his piece. A deep, unfamiliar, male voice stopped him. Might be the portrait, he thought.

“You are not to say anything like that to anyone, especially to a Lady of Celeste,” the voice continue.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All noticeable characters, place, and settings are JK Rowling's.

What in the ….

The first thing on Draco’s mind when he woke up this morning was that he’d meet Charles Malfoi, a hailed figure in History of Magic, then after that was a mandatory wank for his morning stiff. He’d remember to put some extra croissant to his inside pocket because he sometimes felt hungry mid-day. He’d also remember to come early to the detention brief so he’d be spared from the physical work requiring lifting and likes. Truly, to be presented with his long-awaited fate was the last thing he expected.

The Celeste.

He remembered when his Grandfather, Abraxas told him about the Celeste and how the Malfoys are blessed with the ‘one from heaven’ that were the Celeste. The one that, if he was lucky, would be destined for him, the one he’d spend his whole life with, a creature of not this world, not of his kind. One so beautiful, delicate, fair and how the rest of wizarding families would envy the Malfoys for such blessing.

So how could the old man addressing Granger as Celeste. She certainly not from heaven. If yes, he’d rather go to hell. Voluntarily invite himself, if he should. Certainly, Hermione Granger was far from his Grandfather’s every description of how a Celeste would be. And she was a mudblood for Merlin’s sake! An annoying know-it-all, too, with shrill voice that grate his ears. He’d set it right. The old man in the portrait definitely losing his mind.

“Pardon, Sir, but you are undoubtedly wrong about Granger. She can’t be Celeste. Just look at her. She’s short and too small. Top that with hair which more resembling a big bird’s nest, face full with freckles, not to mention the grating voice. How can you mistake her to be a Celeste, one that is so divine?” Draco sneered.

Of course the Griffindors were outraged, they stepped forward with wand in their hands. The Ravenclaws were just sideglanced the easily offended Griffindors while the Hufflepuffs were gasping. The Slytherins smiled in victory, though everyone knew that it was only the beginning. Granger’s eyes and mouth were opened wide, very much unpleasant he had to cringe. Just like how his father always say about her kind, she was.

“Malfoy!” she cried with infuriating scolding tone. 

The Prefect on duty wasn’t too amused either. Judging by how he released her hold of Hermione’s hand then step forward positioning himself in front of her. “You better watch your tongue, Draco Malfoy,” he said calmly with eyes fix on Draco.

Opening his armed he said, “That’s me. Thank you for the introduction, Granger and the new boyfriend. Though I don’t think I’d need it.” He then sniggered to his Slytherin friends who welcome him like their hero.

“You are Malfoy?” the man in the portrait asked looking genuinely surprised. Everyone were confused too.

“Yes, I am, Sir. My apology for the little interruption and not to introduce myself earlier. I have no intention to disregard you, just couldn’t help but to right the wrong. My name is Draco Malfoy. Pleasure to meet you, Sir.” Draco said with a slightest bow.

“I see.”

“You mean, you don’t know him, Malfoy?”

“What? How do you expect me to know the gentleman if it is the first time I see him?” Draco hissed. His eyes narrowed to Hermione to give that intimidating effect he usually used. Though not working most of the time against her, but it was his signature move nonetheless. At least his tone worked to silence the other students. Beside light gasps here and there or silent murmur, there weren’t any other students speaking beside him and Granger.

Granger’s eyes were almost out. Her shock face was very ugly, Draco thought. He thanked Salazar that he was a Malfoy so he had the self-control to never freely give that kind of expression away in public.

“It’s fine, Miss Granger, we’re indeed never meet each other properly. But he maybe heard of me once or twice if I ever be spoken of at the House.” The old man smiled to Granger then turned to him. “I’m sorry to cause you the inconvenience. My name is Charles Malfoi. Pleasure is mine too, young Malfoy.”

If tomorrow’s Daily Prophet headline is around how Draco Malfoy fainted at the Museum, then that’d be almost true. Draco was mortified. He never met his own ancestor, indeed and that was ashamed. But to not recognizing one in front of his Hogwarts classmates, was doubled or even tripled his embarrassment. He sure heard of the legendary Charles Malfoi, one of the chosen one his Grandfather always told him in his stories. Living a brave live to fight the Muggle so that they wouldn’t come near the wizarding one. Defending the world he lived today, that somehow tainted by Dumbledore’s unexplained fascination towards the Muggle world. The world that dirtied by Granger-kind presence.

“Yeah, but I mean, ….” Hermione slowly pointed her finger on the bottom of the portrait where it was written ‘Charles Malfoi’ in capital letter. “We could read it from metres away, Malfoy. That was the reason we’re here in the first place.”

Draco was all red because of the shock, embarrassment and anger. How could he miss that, he cursed under his breath. His head was spinning to the whirlwind of emotion and overwhelming information all at once. He didn’t know what to say or how to digest them that even his magic flared in a split second. Instead, he could only remember one thing that was ingrained in his head from the start and said with all disgust he could muster, “shut your filthy mouth, mudblood.”

***

“Morning, Hermione! I suppose I can collect the bet,” Ron said cheerfully to Hermione then, “Thank you” after Hermione handed him a few sickles.

“What’s that?”

“Just a silly bet, Gin.” Hermione ansewered.

“Yeah, one day she said that I would never ever come earlier than her for breakfast. So we bet on that,” Ron explained.

“I thought that would motivate him to wake up earlier, day by day, trying to win the bet,” Hermione huffed.

“Yes, Ron, you never really try to wake up earlier. Ever. I would’ve notice if you do,” Harry chimed in.

“Why bother. All I need is one breakfast. I can win it by pure probability. Like today,” Ron said looking pleased and smug.

“I have to admit, that rather smart,” Harry said to his best friend.

“I think it was because of my pride. Of course I realised that, but I couldn’t resist to rub it in his face if I win.”

“Where were you, by the way?” Ginny asked, “I hope it worth the sickles you pay for the bet.”

“Headmaster's. He wanted to see me before breakfast.”

“Was it still about the Museum incident?” Harry asked and Hermione just sighed. “That was weeks ago, the case was resolved, the inquiry closed, and we all served our detention.” 

Right. After the incident, their Museum visit was cut short. There were fair amount of hexes exchanged between the Griffindors and Slytherins after one threw by Ron to Draco because of what he said to Hermione. Eiffen had to call for help from other Prefects and the Professors. Thank Merlin no portrait was harmed, but there were damages in the hall. For that, some Prefects along with Professor Flitwick had to stay to help fix the place. They’d be lucky if the curator would allow another visit in the near future.

All third year students were to report to the Headmaster office right after. Many of them were cleared immediately. Many other were subject to further questioning. The following morning, there was an inquiry to investigate the incident. Griffindors and Slytherins were seen in and out of Headmaster office. About ten students were sent to detention. Even Eiffen was temporarily suspended from Prefect because of his failure managing the students. The atmosphere between the two Houses became unbearable, resulting in a nasty Quidditch match where many of the team members should be admitted to the Hospital wing.

“Yeah, though I think not all of us serve it fairly,” Ron muttered then continued, “I am not allowed to watch two Griffindor's matches. Very gutted, because one of them was against Slytherin. That, on top of cleaning the first year student’s training brooms AND helping Madam Pince every Wednesday evening for one month.”

“Well, Ron, you fire the first hex. That’s an established fact,” Harry said.

“I know, and that’s fair. But how come that git get away with just a week detention?” Ron held his chin toward the Slytherin table, clearly to the one Draco Malfoy. “I mean, Harry, you had to help Hagrid and a month of weekly report to Dumbledore. Even you,” he turned to Hermione, “had to serve a week full detention with Snape, and you’re the victim!”

Harry nodded in agreement while Hermione just shrugged. Ron continued to discuss the unfairness of the enquiry and how Snape shouldn’t be involved in the inquiry for impartial result.

“I heard you served it with a Slytherin, Hermione,” Ginny asked quietly. 

“Yes, it was with Daphne. She’s not so bad, though I don’t think we’re comfortable to call each other as friend,” Hermione said. Ginny wasn’t too impress so Hermione continued, “she manicured my nails one time. We finished cleaning early but still have an hour to serve.” She showed her poorly executed manicured hand to Ginny while making a personal note to fix them when her nails grow a little longer.

“How about this morning? I notice that Malfoy entered few minutes after you. Were you both summoned at the Headmaster’s?”

Very observant, Hermione thought. “Maybe. He was outside when I left the office. So I assume he was summoned too.”

“Mm.. hmm...,” Ginny mumbled. “I’d like to ask a question, if you don’t mind. I couldn’t help but notice about the conversation among students around what happened at the Museum incident.” Ginny stopped a second because she loved dramatic effect then asked in a low whisper, “are you really a Celeste?”

“I … err …, what do you know about Celeste?”

Ginny smiled, “I only heard about it once or twice and not in particular. I totally forgot about it until people were talking about it. From what I remember, Celeste is a rare bird. It’s a product of miracle, but a bit of a freak.”

“Oh,” was all Hermione could muster.

***

It was a fine and windy Friday evening when they accidently met at the owlry. Both were about to send a letter to their parents, respectively. They only stole glances, while hoping the unfortunate affair came to an end without further awkwardness.

The letter wasn’t the first one Draco wrote to his parents, not even the first one discussing the Celeste. The first one was sent days after the Museum incident. He wanted to confirm if the portrait was indeed Charles Malfoi. And if he was, then Draco wanted to ensure that the old portrait was indeed in weed when he said that Granger was a Celeste. He tried not to dwell too much on the matter, but whenever he saw her in their shared class he’d automatically think of what Charles had said.

His parent were useless. None of them know for sure about the whole Celeste business. His father said never even in his dream he’d ever imagine to meet a Celeste. He believed it was a myth. Maybe he was just wary of Narcissa’s reaction if she knew how he was destined to such a being. And naturally, his father pointed more on the Malfoy part of the story where they were the selected, the chosen, justifying how they were in higher position among Purebloods. Disregarding the fact that they supposed to inherit their ancestor’s task to guard the Wizarding world to earn the title, or that their fate supposed to be intertwined with the Celeste.

He wanted to see Grandfather Abraxas so he could ask many things. He was, after all, the one who told Draco about the blessing gift. But Abraxas almost like he was in his deathbed. He was fading away in years and it was only time that he will be sent to the veil. His communication was limited, and he certainly couldn’t read nor write a letter. The rational option was to get to Charles, but he wanted second opinion. He had a conflicting feeling about the gentleman. His whole demeanour and appearance would never be described as Malfoy-esque. But his warmth crept onto him. It was so comfortable and welcoming, to a point that it was alarming. It made him queasy. 

But those didn’t discourage him from asking more books regarding, discussing, or even just mention, the Old Malfoi and/or Celeste from the Manor’s library.

Hermione wasn’t far from that either. She was still on non-speaking term with her Grandmother so she didn’t bother to ask her, even by proxy. Instead, she ‘encourage’ her Mother to discuss anything about Celeste with Aunt Angie because she couldn’t discuss it herself, yet. However Hermione knew well that it won’t be a short wait. She understood how her Mother’s work could be demanding at times. Preparing for a lecture wasn’t an easy feat and on top of that she did grading and reviewing journals or research paper, if not wrote it herself. Not to mention, her Mother and Aunt Angie were not at all friendly with each other. Not hostile as her Mother’s attitude towards Gran in their early re-acquaintance days, they just weren’t familiar with one another, making them like strangers. Most of the time, they maintain polity and civility for the sake of their Papa –the only thing the sisters share was their love to Grandpa. Hermione didn’t want to be selfish, so she had to be patient and tried not to push.

***

“Are you really a Celeste, though?”

Draco just received a letter from his Mother last night, along with an old tome full of fables and prose on Wizarding world in its Old days. The letter was cold and precise, stating that she wouldn’t reply if Draco insisted in asking and discussing about the Celeste and Old Malfoi. She reprimanded him for having unhealthy obsession about the matter, and instead should divert his time and energy to his school and quidditch. However she also said that she passed all information and questions in his letter to Abraxas. He could wait. This Christmas break, he could go to Grandfather’s and talk to him personally.

But then he saw Hermione walking alone from the library. He absentmindedly approached her then cornered her in a deserted corridor. He had nothing in mind until he heard a gasped and a ‘sod off Malfoy’ from her. He realised that he made mistake but then stupidly marched her toward an alcove. He made further mistake by asking her that.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Wrong. It is my business. I am a Malfoy. Everything is my business,” he said while calmly blocked her only escape, “and why were you summoned to the Headmaster office time and time again? Was it because of that?”

“I repeat, it’s none of your business. Leave me alone, Malfoy!”

“And I repeat, it is. Answer me, Granger, then I’ll let you go.”

“I think, I don’t have to answer any of your questions, Malfoy.”

“And I think, you know exactly why I only get a week of detention from the Museum incident.” Of course she knew. And no, not because Snape was sitting as one of presiding judges in the inquiry, but because Lucious Malfoy was in the Board. “I can make you expelled, Granger, don’t tempt me,” he added.

“Of course, daddy this daddy that. You’d even complain if your pony isn’t glittery enough, wouldn’t you.”

“Granger,” a note of slight anger in his tone.

“What?! You don’t like it, do you, that your ancestor regards me highly.”

“He’s wrong, isn’t he? Tell me, that you’re not a Celeste!”

“Oh, Malfoy, I’d love to, but that’d be a lie. See, the world isn’t revolve around you. And you couldn’t just change a fact just because it doesn’t fit your expectation.” There was a short pause where she let a long sigh. “I remember, though. Second year, you wished me died and today you threaten to expel me from school. I will write it down on a little journal of mine so if there’s something happen to me, people will know where to go.”

She pushed pass him out of the alcove. He stumbled back stared blankly towards the spot where she was stand before. Not because of her force when pushing him, but rather from her final words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for your support, your kudos and comments. There are some ideas on how the story might go, but I have to say that for me writing is hard. I hope you enjoy the story. Again, thanks very much.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a mention of past molestation/harassment towards an underage and teen girl (not directed towards the main character).

Hermione sat on the couch of his Grandpa’s Lord Office, engrossed in her ‘light reading’ Eiffen had suggested. Girl from Ipanema in the background.

It was summer break again. How fast time had gone by, Hermione thought. It felt like only yesterday she punched the one Draco Malfoy in the nose and managed to break it. Luckily, she wasn’t reported. Then the Buckbeak crisis which she and Harry managed to tweak. However, not again in her life she’d use time turner for classes, especially since she had to report weekly to either McGonagall or the Headmaster.

Her easy friendship with Eiffen too. It was like only yesterday he approached her in the Library.

“Runes?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

“Why exactly.”

Both apologized for the Museum incident, even though they were aware that it was on Malfoy. Their conversation run smoothly, and it was very new to Hermione. Her friends were mostly less enthusiastic if not uninterested when she started to talk about various subjects of her liking, academic or not. While Eiffen, being two years ahead, had really improved her understanding and depth in many areas of magic and non-magical knowledge.

Like how he introduced her to Blur, told her how he smuggled a music player to his dorm, and how to make it work. And she loved it, not only for the sake of Eiffen or the whole idea of listening to music inside Hogwarts, but for their music. They even went to Glastonbury Festival in June to watch the group, breaking school rules in the process. Something she’d do reluctantly with her friends but impulsively agree when it was with him.

Harry even pointed out in one of their dinner how she was distracted and exhausted lately, that was when she spent her time more opening up to the Ravenclaw boy. But she just couldn’t help it! Eiffen was not necessarily handsome, but easy on the eyes nonetheless. Very charming, reliable, and knowledgeable.

And he happened to know about Celeste as well, what a not-so-coincidence.

When she brought up about the subject, he said that he knew she would one day and waited for the time to come. They agreed that they’d discussed it at their Hogsmeade dates, and they were.

“What I know is, Celeste is ancient,” he said in one of their dates. “As I told you, it even older than the Old Malfoi line or other Old Pureblood family line.”

“Yes, we discussed this before, that there is a mystery to Celeste’s origin. Why? I could find no studies on that, or any history mentioning that.”

“Hmm… I don’t know for sure. I just know that most of our History of Magic would discuss the post-separation and the ups and downs. While when the History discussing the pre-separation, it mostly just one-two ‘important’ events without giving us the whole context. This including the Celeste. So I thought maybe the History didn’t find Celeste ‘important’ enough to be discussed.”

“Until …?”

Eiffen smiled and took the letter he received last night from his mentor from the inner pocket of his Abercrombie coat.

“I took the liberty of discussing about the Celeste with Mr. Merva, one of my mentors in the summer course. Last night he sent me this and I can’t wait to share it with you,” he said, offering the letter.

She opened and read the surprisingly short letter, discussing broadly about Celeste and particularly about the existence of a book titled ‘The Celeste’. She just stared at him, processing the new information. Then he promised to facilitate her meeting with him to discuss about the matter and the possibility to access the book in the summer break.  
But how he supposed to facilitate such meeting if she was grounded?

When her parents picked her at King’s Cross, everything nothing seemed amiss. They even gave her permission to Quidditch World Cup with the Wesleys. However by dinner time, her Father brought the leaving-Hogwarts-property subject, where she remembered it must be that one time she went to Somerset with Eiffen.

Holly Molly.

“Why, Hermione, did you think that it’s a wise thing to do?”

She was sure Professor McGonagall didn’t discussed about it at all, not even a hint that the school knew. Now Hermione felt betrayed that her Professors just directly report it to her parents rather than summoning her.

“And that was just after the incident in the Museum,” her Mother added.

After a long silent, her Father said, “Hermione, we are just concerned about you. You didn’t mention anything about the trip in your letters. Then we receive a sealed letter stating that you were leaving Hogwarts and it didn’t know where did you go. We are devastated because we had to go through complicated procedures just to enter the Wizarding world on our own, let alone the school.”

Hermione deflated. On one side, she knew that her actions would have consequences. On the other hand, she was ashamed and unreasonably angry to any Professor who decide to directly report it to her parents without even a word with her first.

“And I’m glad that she directly told us, Phil, it’s a relieve that we seem to have support from other parents,” her Mother said.

“Yes, not even a word from the school. Even until today. Hogwarts never let me down, apparently until now. They way they handle things, oh my … you know exactly what would they do in our school, right, Honey?”

“Exactly. I mean, I refuse to believe that the Hogwarts do not aware when students leave for days like that.”

What?

Hermione seriously considered her parents out-of-topic discussion, because they didn’t focusing on her anymore (though they would in time) and because she wondered who did sent the letter.

“This is very irresponsible, indeed. ….”

“… thank Mrs. Black for her warning. ….”

“Sure, Honey. And tea, she must drink tea!”

“ … Minister? Ministry? … her poor son ….”

“And many more. I wonder if there is any other Magical School?”

“ … mentioned Beaux-botox or something in our correspondence.”

“It’s in France, and I doubt it called that.”

“… had to re-checked it again later.”

The discussion then shifted to the possibility to send her to Magical School in France. She felt tired and slightly annoyed that her parents openly discussing a transfer in front of her without inviting her to join the discussion.

***

At breakfast the morning after, she couldn’t avoid her Father who enquired about the trip again, promising that he wouldn’t tell on her Mother who was gardening at the time. She told him about the Glastonbury Festival, knowing that he went there almost every year when he was younger. He frowned, mostly because he planned to take her there after she graduated from Hogwarts, but also because he hoped she told them about the plan. She apologized for being reckless but not for going to the Festival. He understood.  
But then all hell broke loose. Apparently her Father was a big gossip after all, as by lunch time her Mother knew about the Glastonbury trip. She admitted that she went there too, when she was younger, but not at Hermione’s age, and certainly as spontaneous activity with a student two-years ahead of her. She was disappointed for Hermione’s reckless behaviour, and despite her apology, she was grounded for the summer until it was time for Quidditch World Cup with the Wesleys.

~ 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 ~

Hermione sighed loudly.

She could only visit her Grandpa in her time grounded, and she thank the Lord for this little mercy. At least she was able to choose when and where she’d visit her Grandpa, which of course always in the office. She knew very well that Gran never really visit Grandpa at work. She also hope Grandpa could keep his promise to not letting Gran know that she often visited him this summer.

~ 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 ~

Another sigh.

“What is it, Cupcake?”

She looked up from Eiffen’s copy of 1984, then shake her head. But it was clear that she wasn’t fine. At all.

“How about ice cream? We can take a break and have some ice cream from your favourite parlour.”

“I really am fine, Grandpa. And no matter how the ice cream offer really, really tempt me, but we have everything already,” she said, gesturing to the assortment of cakes and biscuits on the table. “And in an hour the tea lady will bring our tea with tarts and sandwiches.”

“But ice cream usually will lighten your mood.”

“Thank you for the thought, Grandpa, and I’m sorry I’m sulking. I know you’re just worry and my mood wasn’t really helping you and your work,” Hermione answered. Her Grandpa just smiled then tried but failed to focus back to his work as Hermione continued her loud sighs.

The night, Lilian talked to Hermione not only as Mother and daughter, but also as woman to woman. She apologised for being too harsh with her. She told her that as a child, she was molested multiple times. One, was her private music teacher who taught her violin. He always found excuses to touch her inappropriately. At first, she said, she didn’t really aware and thought it was just normal in violin lesson. But then one or two times in one sitting, he brushed his hand not only to her arms but also to her chest. She was only eight at the time and didn’t like that, at all. She asked to change her music teacher, but Gran said he was the best in town. Then she refused to take the lesson, opting to go out with her classmate and come home late whenever the day she supposed to have the lesson. When Gran knew this, she was very angry to her, and that was maybe the start of her resentment to Gran. When she turned 16, Gran hire the same violin teacher for her so that she could ‘polish’ her music skill without knowing of their history other than Lilian’s unexplained hatred towards the man. It only need less than a month for the teacher to harass her again, now starting to touch her chin, asked her to smile, and openly say that she was rather unattractive so she really need to up her game in violin. But then he commenting about her posture and readily ‘corrected’ her. Not only that he was on her personal space, he practically hugged her from behind when correcting it. Another day, he ‘corrected’ another thing and brushing her chest again. She wasn’t having any of it and punch the man and leaving home for three days as she knew well, Gran would take the teacher’s side. And that wasn’t the only person did it. An upper class student smacked her bum when he was walking in a group and shouted ‘fat arsed!’. She felt humiliated though there was no one saw the incident. But then another senior approached her when she felt really low. She thought that the boy was perfect, but turned out he only want to get to her pants in the end. He groomed her so she didn’t realise immediately, but fortunately it didn’t get too far.

They cried then consoled each other in the end. Hermione’s Mother said that she didn’t want anyone to take advantage of Hermione’s innocence. Hermione told her Mother of Eiffen’s intention and promised her that she would share more about her relationship in the future.

***

It wasn’t very common for the Grangers to entertain guests for afternoon tea. That Sunday was different. Mrs. Black, a guest from Wizarding world and a nobility no less. Hermione thought hard on this Mrs. Black as she heard it once or twice in a while, but didn’t remember any student with the surname. Maybe she didn’t sent her children to Hogwarts, but from her parents’ story, it was clear that she did. And on a more important note, how she knew about her trip? Why didn’t she warned the school and instead told her parents who could contribute nothing to the situation. That, of course, if she was really care about students’ wellbeing. Or maybe she had some hidden agenda. She was really –

Three knocks on the door. Hermione opened the front door for a beautiful looking lady, slim and tall, pale complexion, fashionable as Magical world could offer with red lipstick, peculiar hair colour almost resembling the Malfoy. 

“Hello, little Darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the long delay for the chapter. I also thank you for all supports and kudos for this works and my other works.  
> Be save wherever you are,  
> XO.


	6. Chapter 6

Oh how she despised being called ‘little darling’.

That reminded her how tiny and insignificant she was as a person. ‘Just smile, Darling,’ she remembered how Gran taught her before every tea party at her big, handsome House. How she’d always pointedly looking at her, though subtle, over her posture and eating manner. How after they finished, Gran would criticize any of her gesture like ‘not smiling enough’ to ‘laughing too loud’. At the time, she was really wanted to learn all those etiquette, in case she’s need it one day. Not to land a proper husband as Gran would suggest most, but to armour herself with the proper charm and grace the affluent community uphold. Besides, it was a rather better option than agreeing to be sent to a finishing school in Rougemont, Switzerland. 

Just like Lady Black who insist them to call her Cissy. Who named their child Cissy! What kind of name Cissy Black was?! The lady should thank Merlin she was raised in the Wizarding World, so that she won’t be bullied by her classmates for the name. But that might be the upper class society in the Wizarding World work, to have a certain cute nickname just like how one of her Gran’s friend called her Mimy –which she hated. Imagine that you had to carry that until your adulthood, or even, for the rest of your life.  
This brought Hermione to the most obvious thing about Cissy, was that she would perfectly settled into the upper class society with her charm. Just look at her perfect laugh with her perfect hand gestures with all the exaggerative praise over the Darjeeling and her Mum’s pound cake. Saying everything and nothing at the same time, exploring subjects on both Wizarding and Muggle world. But nothing about herself –or her son who was a Hogwarts student in Hermione's year. Other than her successful attempt to dissuade her husband to send their son to Drumstrang, she only revealed that her son was a Slytherin.

What she didn’t like at all about this conversation was, that Cissy and her Parents were seemed to have an initial conversation about a certain Wizarding school in France before this. And this Cissy lady seemed to pitch so hard about Beauxbaton to her parents as a more proper school than Hogwarts. It was too obvious, really. Hermione almost certain that Cissy was paid by the school to market it in England. But why?

“But Hogwarts is decent. Why bother considering any other school when Hogwarts offer the best Professors, too.” 

That abruptly paused their conversation on Beauxbaton’s uniform which Cissy showed in one of the photos that she brought with her. Though, to be honest, the uniform was really pretty indeed. All eyes on her. Cissy looked a little irritated, but put her charming mask on immediately.

“Manner, Hermione!” Her Mother chastised her, then addressed Cissy, “I’m sorry, Cissy, she didn’t mean to cut you like that,” then turned to Hermione, “did she?” 

“I’m sorry. My Mum’s right, of course. I don’t mean to cut. But I do mean my question. I just confused as to how and when I should say it as all of you seemed to be engrossed and forget that I am here. Or maybe… I was excluded from the conversation intentionally, which, make no sense to me.”

“Hermione!”

“All of you talk about the prospect of sending me to other school. How come didn’t I know about any of this?”

“Oh Hermione, Little Darling, you misunderstood. We didn’t talk about that,” Cissy lady said. 

“I’m really sorry, Cissy, she was grounded for escaping school. She might still hold some resentment towards that,” her Mother said almost at the same time.

“Grounded?” Cissy ‘s fake shocked was obvious to Hermione, but not to the parents. “For leaving the school ground?”

Undetected, she wanted to add, because that was quite an achievement for her. But then she realised that she _was_ detected.

“The school just let it slip, didn’t even bother to inform us,” her Mother sounded clearly irritated.

“The school didn’t know, something your daughter could be proud of, actually.”

“But how? Our Hermione told us that the school was very strict on that,” her Father chimed in.

“Ask her,” Cissy said, “Well, actually I’m equally curious on the technical. I went there too when I was younger, and they _were_ indeed very strict. Or maybe, ask her boyfriend.”

“Eiffen’s not my boyfriend!” Hermione instantly responded in a high-pitch loud-whisper. This earned her a hard stare from Mother. She crossed her hands in front of her chest, huffed. 

Father tried to smooth things out, “But as you said, after all, it’s the school’s lack of professionalism. And we agree. To miss two students and not knowing it, is a big thing. If the officials know, that’d be a big problem for them.”

“I can assure you that the Ministry have no access to the information and I have no plan to give them any.”

“Do we need to tell the school? I mean, the staffs might need some serious evaluation to either the infrastructures, the rules, or monitoring system. Who knows how many of other students who were, you know, just in-and-out of school without raising alarm.”

“I don’t know if that’s necessary, Phil. But I will communicate this with my husband. He is somehow has some influence in the board of school’s Committees. Many of us came from the same circle.”

Hermione scoffed. Was that how the lady insinuated that she’s a Pureblood? This, of course earned her another hard stare from Mother. She just rolled her eyes. 

Cissy just smiled and said, “I will do my best. Of course without alarming anyone about the incident. Maybe little Hermione here would give a direction to where the school might need to improve.”

Little Hermione? She knew that she behaved like a spoiled brat, but Cissy lady should know that the way she pointing it out won’t get her anywhere.

“We both know that there are many hidden rooms and secret passages in Hogwarts.”

“Well, I certainly don’t.”

Of course, Pureblood Princess, wouldn’t caught death in damp, dark, and dirty part of the school.

“Some of them connect rooms inside the building, even some hidden alcoves. While some other to the outside.”

“Where is it, honey?”

She shrugged, “I know only few of them, and pretty unnecessary one, I think, couldn’t even cut to my next class effectively. Much better with regular path.”

“So the one lead outside is much more effective, then?”

“Honestly, no. Eiffen got a map because one wrong turn, you will lost. We left roses, too, to mark our route. But we couldn’t trace the gate that we use. It need an elaborate tracing charm, and thanks to his advance level of magic, we find our way to the castle soundly and safely,” Hermione laced some truth to her lies, hoping it will be vague enough.

“Well, the irresponsible boy shouldn’t take you to Somerset,” her Father pointed out.

“Is this tea party supposed to scrutinize me?”

“No, Hermione. But you bring this to yourself. We were discussing about this all-women academy of magic in France, before.”

“What? I just asked, why, would you discuss about that? Hogwarts is fine, it’s great. Can you see it? If not, then I don’t think this lady would insist to put her son there. You overcomplicate things”

“Enough, Hermione. Go upstairs and think about your behaviour this evening. If you’re ready to speak peacefully, then you are welcome to dinner,” her Mother dismissed Hermione.

“But Mu–.” 

But her father cut her. “Hermione,” he said while standing up and put his hands on her shoulder, urging her to go, “I will walk you to your room.” His father apologised to the lady Cissy who appear to be nodding in understanding, as if Hermione was an animal deserved to be locked up in a room. “I’m really sorry for this, Cissy.”

*** 

“ …. She asked to be called Cissy, I mean, who’d call their child Cissy, right?” Hermione said on the phone line in her bedroom. Eiffen was on the other end. Of course. Who else did she'd call in time like this. “She’s terrible.”

“Yeah, she sounded terrible. You sure it’s her real name, though? I’m not sure I’ve read anything about Cissy Black, and she supposed to be a reputable Pureblood with influential husband.”

“I’m not sure either. I mean, my Gran’s friends took the liberty to call me Mimy. So I guess it’s that kind of name and stuck until you reach the Valhalla.”

He chuckled, “lead by the Valkyries? Is that why I heard Wagner?”

“Not exactly my mood, but my only option is this or The Nutcracker by Tchaikovsky.”

“I didn’t know that you’re into classical music.”

“Hermione … are you still using the phone line?” she heard her Father shouted from downstairs.

Rolling her eyes, she replied, “A minute!”

“Sorry, Eiffen. I supposed to ponder my behaviour in front of the Cissy lady. I just wanted to update you about the matter. I thought knowing her given name would help your little investigation.”

“I’ll do what I can. Oh yeah! Almost forgot to update you on Mr. Merva, but it’s a good news relating to the time frame that we propose. Until next time. Good night.”

“Night.”

She told Eiffen about the suspicious Mrs. Black before. From what he gathered from the Minister’s civil record, the only living Black was only Sirius. Others were either died or married, thus adopting new name and all information then transferred and registered under the husband’s family. Sirius was single, as far as she knew. So Cissy wasn't a Black by marriage. The other possibility was that she was among the married Black women, explaining lack of her record in the Ministry. The other unsettling thing was her given name. Her current hypothesis was that Cissy wasn't her real given name. To her credit, she never confirm her name to be 'Cissy Black', rather introduced herself firstly as 'Mrs.Black' and later a 'call me Cissy', instead of proper introduction. It needed deeper search to Ministry archives. Was it to avoid detection, or a sign of mal intent? She should approach this with great cautions. Especially now that her parents were on the lady’s side.

*** 

“You can leave me here, Father, if Mr.Weasley cannot make it in time, he’d sent one of his son to pick me up.”

“Nope. You sneaked out of your school in Scotland to Somerset. You think I can trust you so easily and leave you here alone?”  
She shrugged, “they can be long.”

“I have all day.”

“Your PDA suggest otherwise.”

“Just checking some emails. I’m sure Natalie is very capable working alone. Then, your Mother doesn’t need me until I have to pick her up from campus at five.”

“Why do you think leaving me with the Weasleys will stop me from sneaking around? They love me. They won’t stop me from wandering around.”

“First, your Mother and I had promised you and them about this Quidditch World Cup. Second, that’s exactly why I want to have a say with whomever pick you today, that you’re basically grounded and cannot be trusted. So, though you can wandering around as you like, you cannot do it alone. I think it’s a small request, especially if they love you like you said.”

“What a joy, having a bodyguard. Why don’t you request for a butler, too, Father.”

“Hermione, please, understand our perspective as parents. We just want to protect you.”

Hermione sighed, ashamed for her lack of respect towards her parents. They said it was because of her intense communication with Eiffen, who now they liberally labelled as 'troubled'. She knew that Cissy was behind it. 

All the resentment and rage was actually for this Cissy lady. Very sneaky, like a true Slytherin she was. And just like she predict, Cissy pitch her parents more and more about the Beauxbaton. What was her agenda, really. Who benefited most if she was out of Hogwarts, she thought. Probably among the top students, so they could eliminate a competitor. But that was too childish. But then she remembered the bullies like Malfoy and Parkinson who won’t hesitate using their parent’s name and connection for their benefit. The other would be gradual elimination of Muggleborns like her from Hogwarts, effectively purify it. Eiffen said the Blacks were among blood purists, so that might be a reason. She always giggled imagining how Cissy operate in the muggle world and onto her front door. The amount of works and determination was something she admired.

“I’m sorry, Father. I might get stressed out from this Cissy things. I told you and Mum to be cautious, but both you always side with her. I hope you know that won’t help with my opinion about her.”

“And I, will try better to hear what you say. It will be harder for your Mother, though, as Cissy was now resembling a best friend she never had, or a sister she hope.”

“All because she finds someone to talk to about Wizarding world. Mother should try to correspond with Professor McGonagall, one I could trust. Or Mrs.Weasley.”

“I will try my best, Hermione, that’s all I can say now.”

***  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the long delay. I got caught up with other responsibilities and procrastinate a lot. I will still continue this series, though with my pace. I don't want to give myself extra pressure.
> 
> And I am grateful for everyone who find their time reading this, for your patience, for every kudos and comments you give..  
> I have no word other than thank you.


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